


The EXO Academy

by timeturners



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Childhood Trauma, Dysfunctional Family, EXO Have Powers (EXO), Eventual Romance, Family, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, MAMA Era Powers (EXO), OT12 (EXO), Protective Siblings, Romance, Siblings, Superheroes, The Umbrella Academy (TV) Spoilers, Umbrella Academy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25144948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeturners/pseuds/timeturners
Summary: The EXO Academy, once a famous group of crime-fighting teenagers, have disbanded in the years following the disappearance of one of their own. But when a chance encounter brings all twelve, now maladjusted adults, back together, it's up to the EXO Academy to save the world ... perhaps from themselves.ORLuhan has always felt left out, the only powerless member of the EXO Academy, the family he was taken into when he was only twelve-years-old. Now that he's an adult and the Academy is reuniting he begins to discover more about himself.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Park Chanyeol, Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai, Kim Jongdae | Chen/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 16
Kudos: 30





	1. Twelve Years Can Make Such A Difference

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a plot bunny I had a while ago that I really felt like writing recently. 
> 
> This IS an Umbrella Academy AU sort of, with a lot of similar elements but a lot of different elements. 
> 
> I hope you like it! :)
> 
> \--
> 
> First I want to address about this fic and Umbrella Academy is the incest :/
> 
> One problem that people -- myself included -- have with Umbrella Academy is the incestuous romantic relationship between Allison and Luther. In my view, they are siblings even if they aren't biologically related, because they were raised together since birth.
> 
> In my fic, there will be romantic relationships between members of the EXO Academy. However, these characters will have been raised by their own families up until when Master S. (the equivalent of Reginald) takes them in because of their special powers. 
> 
> The youngest, Sehun, is taken in when he is ten-years-old, and the eldest, Minseok, is taken in when he is fourteen-years-old. Thus, while they do treat each other as a "found family" to some extent, I don't think any romantic relationships between the characters constitutes as incestuous because they are all not biologically related, and were only raised together during their teen (pubescent) years. 
> 
> Thank you if you have read this far! If you take issue with anything I have said (especially regarding this A/N), please comment! I am not as informed as I could be.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twelve years ago, there is a robbery at a bank.

Twelve years ago, there is a robbery at a bank. A typical robbery, with gunmen and gunwomen, with the sounds of ringing alarms and screaming hostages, with an incompetent police-force hesitating outside. 

There is, however, something extremely atypical about this day. Eleven children sneak into the bank as the robbery begins to unfold. None of the robbers takes notice until it’s much too late for them. One catches sight of a small commotion in the bank’s lobby, as other gunmen force hostages into office rooms.

“Keep an eye on that group over there,” he barks to another.

“Maybe you should keep an eye on _me_ ,” a voice comes slyly.

The gunman whirls around, and there’s a boy, only about ten years of age, in a schoolboy sweater vest, socks pulled to the knee, and a small mask covering his eyes. In all senses: quite lame—but there is something wicked about his grin that makes the gunman hesitate. “Look, kid, if you don’t get into the rooms with the other hostages, I’ll—”

A crack like a gunshot explodes, but as far as the gunman can tell, no weapons have been fired. 

“You’ll what?” Kai asks, his voice suddenly closer. Somehow, he’s behind the gunman. The cracks in the air where Kai was a second ago shimmer.

“Hey, what—”

Kai aims a kick at the robber’s side swiftly, teleporting beside him and snatching the gun from the crumpling man. 

“Awesome,” Kai marvels, lifting the weapon.

“ _The EXO Academy!_ ” a civilian yells in excitement over the gunshots and the fighting. 

Chaos is erupting on the other end of the lobby. Suho slides in, startling groups of hostages and robbers, yelling, “Number Seven, the bottle!”

“Right here, Junmyeon,” Xiumin pants as he follows, lugging an enormous water bottle in his hands. 

He twists the cap off the bottle, so Suho can flick his hand outward, water arcing out violently and slamming three gunmen to the ground. Gunshots ring through the air—Xiumin cringes, hoping Suho isn’t hit—and Xiumin tosses the bottlecap away. With his now-free hand, he waves and transforms the water around the robbers’ feet into ice, freezing them firmly to the marble floor.

Suho keeps running, twisting his arms so that waves swoop in dangerous crescents around the lobby. “Don’t call me that! It’s either Suho or Number One!”

“Oh, right! Sorry! Of course!”

The uproar continues when the skylight in the domed roof’s centre shatters—glass blows away with a gentle wind, and in swoops Yifan, his bird wings beating in earnest and his arms straining from holding onto Sehun’s and Yixing’s. 

“You—are—so—heavy,” he complains, trying to land.

“Drop us here, please,” Yixing says.

“My outfit’s all messed up,” Sehun bemoans as they land gracefully on the marble. 

“Fuck your outfit,” snaps Yifan, panting.

“ _Number Four_ , the _robbers_!” Yixing shrieks at Sehun, ducking behind Yifan as two criminals speed towards them, guns at the ready.

Sehun lazily blows at them, and a huge gust shoves them all the way to one of the marble pillars. Yixing winces at the sickening cracks, but focuses his attention to hostages, running towards the closest group.

“You’re late,” yells Suho at new stragglers bursting in through the front entrance of the bank. Suho’s fending off an unarmed robber in hand-to-hand combat, struggling to focus on using his power when she’s so close. 

“Sorry,” Chanyeol lies as he runs in, smirking. He summons a ball of fire and tosses it—barely missing Suho—hitting the robber’s feet and sending her fleeing, pant legs aflame.

“Sorry, One,” Zitao says, heaving as he catches up. “Six tripped.”

Baekhyun sidles up, mumbling an apology. Chanyeol grins and pets his head.

“It’s fine,” Suho snaps, panting from his efforts. “There aren’t many left to fight. Go help the hostages out of here.”

Jongdae catches up and sighs in relief at that, while Chanyeol swears. 

“Not you two,” Suho orders. Chanyeol celebrates and Jongdae groans. “Six, Eleven, go find anyone that’s not doing anything. Lead the civilians out.”

Baekhyun and Zitao nod in unison, darting away. On the way to Yixing—who heals a cut on a little girl’s forehead with his glowing hands—a gunman yells and aims his weapon at them. Zitao shoots his palm out and, screwing up his face in concentration, makes the robber freeze, not in the way of Xiumin’s ice power, but as if time itself has paused.

“Hey, did you see that?” Zitao asks, more to himself than Baekhyun, who nods happily. “I did something, finally!”

Yifan’s being manhandled, with guns pointed at his head, but before Suho, Chanyeol or Xiumin can intervene, Kyungsoo is lumbering in—”You’re late!” Suho yells—and, despite his short stature, manages to look intimidating. He stomps on the ground and chunks of marble are wrenched from the very floor they stand upon. Kyungsoo punches out once and the stones go flying, the gunmen scattering to avoid being hit. 

“You’re welcome,” intones Kyungsoo.

“Thanks,” mutters Yifan, a little humiliated.

Xiumin is still panicky. “One, there’s still a roomful of gunmen. I saw. Beyond those doors over there. I think they’re near the vaults.”

“Nine.” Suho turns to Jongdae. “Your turn.”

“Do I _have_ to?” he moans.

“Prove that you’re worthy to be in the EXO Academy,” Suho says seriously.

“Master S would want this,” adds Xiumin, earning a nod of approval from Suho. 

Jongdae mutters something but nevertheless traipses his way over to the doors leading to the vaults. He shuts the door gingerly, and though nobody can see what happens beyond, everyone can hear it. The massive thunderous boom rocks the foundations of the bank. A radiant light flashes, brighter than anything Baekhyun could conjure. Electricity sparkles through the air. Jongdae’s not even gone thirty seconds but when he comes back, he looks smokey, his clothes a little burnt, his hair stuck up.

“Happy?” 

Suho nods. He gives Xiumin a high-five.

* * *

However, outside the bank, on the rooftop of some nearby building, there is an man and a teenager, older than most of the boys rescuing the people in the bank. One might mistake them for father and child. 

But they’d be wrong.

“Why can’t I be with the others?” asks the teenaged boy. Beside him stands the tall, old man, who has a cultivated moustache, and spectacles that do little to hide the beadiness in his eyes. Through binoculars, he peers at the happenings in the bank, watching the unharmed hostages escaping. He has a satisfied expression, but it’s not a smile. He isn’t the type to do that.

“You’re just simply not special, Number Twelve,” Master S says to Luhan. 

Luhan nods and starts to believe it.

* * *

Twelve years later, Suho wakes up at six o’clock sharp as he usually does and completes his routine. First, he waters the plants in the garden outside, twisting his hand gently in the air so that water droplets rise from the watering can, and then splattering them evenly over the perfectly pruned flowerbeds. Then he does his morning run around the expansive grounds of his home, circling the Academy thrice, just in time to make his solitary seven o’clock breakfast of perfectly cooked bacon and eggs. Suho takes a shower afterwards—completely drying the shower when he’s done by sucking out the moisture with a flick of a wrist—and spends a good while checking himself out in the mirror. Not in a vain way like Chanyeol. In a self-conscious, thorough way. Suho hasn’t been on a proper mission in years, but he’s kept up his exercise regime and he, with a satisfied sigh, pats his six-pack comfortably. But there are blemishes on Suho’s face. Wasn’t acne meant to be a teenage thing? He fixes his hair with gel, making sure it looks perfect. “At least _you_ stayed,” he sighs to his reflection as he brushes his pearly white teeth. 

Suho checks his phone. No reply from Xiumin to Suho’s apology texts, not that Suho expected one. (Maybe Xiumin had gotten a new phone number in the past year? But it’s more likely that he’s just ignoring Suho.) There’s a lengthy email reply from sweet Yixing—probably about how perfect and lovely his doctor career is going—but Suho doesn’t care to read through it right now. There’s a notification for Sehun’s Instagram account which Suho begrudgingly keeps up with; it’s another inane selfie from Sehun to his fans. (Suho isn’t sure what Sehun actually does, but he understands Sehun’s what’s called an “influencer.”) Then there’s a notification for Jongdae’s YouTube account, where his artist name is CHEN; it’s a new song release, another dreary ballad. Probably about his divorce three years ago. Suho presses “Like.” Suho scrolls through entertainment news and, sure enough, there’s news of the upcoming film Chanyeol’s starring in, so Suho assumes Chanyeol’s doing fine. Great, even. Less reliable, but Suho checks Baekhyun’s website: there’s a new blog post about delayed shipments. So Baekhyun’s probably still alive. 

He laments that he has no way of knowing how the rest are doing. He doesn’t have Luhan’s contacts. Yifan would rather “slit his throat” (as said at Jongdae’s wedding) than keep up with anyone, so Suho doesn’t message him. Kai probably feels similarly. Suho isn’t even sure Kyungsoo still has a phone. And Taozi … well, Suho would give anything for Taozi to come back. 

Plus, if Suho’s completely honest, he’d rather slit his _own_ throat than have the others know that Suho is always trying to check up on them. (Other than Yixing, who is sweet enough not to mention it.) That’s just embarrassing, to have his once-family realise that Suho still bothers thinking about them. 

Because they clearly don’t think about him. 

Suho realises it’s near eight o’clock now. Shit. Father—sorry, _Master S_ —will be awake and wanting breakfast by now. Suho has no time to make the same brilliantly cooked bacon and eggs, the butter on the toast smeared imperfectly, the coffee not stirred enough, but it’s OK. Everything’s OK. 

Suho walks up the stairs, past the hallways of bedrooms that haven't been occupied in years, past the old rooms they used to use as classrooms, up more stairs, until finally, he knocks on Master S’s door. No answer.

This isn’t unusual. If Master S has started working—on whatever he works on—he dislikes being bothered. So Suho simply leaves the breakfast in front of the door. 

What’s unusual is when Suho comes back at around noon with cuts of roast chicken and rice in a tray, with a glass of water. Suho sees that the breakfast he prepared is still there. That’s strange. Perhaps Master S is just working very hard today. So Suho knocks on the door once more, to no response.

Dinnertime is the pivotal point. He’s been debating all day whether to open Master S’s door and when he comes up with Master S’s dinner tray and sees both breakfast and lunch still at the door, Suho decides enough is enough. 

He gently places the tray down and kicks the other two out of the way. He knocks hard. He knocks again. No reply. None at all.

His hand reaches out for the doorknob but hesitates. Master S will be very angry if Suho comes in without permission. Horribly so. He hasn’t yelled at Suho in years—Suho has made sure of it, with his perfect child act—and he isn’t ready to get yelled at once more.

But there’s something wrong. There must be.

“Master S,” Suho says confidently. “I’m coming in.”

He tries the doorknob. It’s locked.

Suho closes his eyes and curls in his fingers, feeling the water from the lunch and dinner glasses, and even the water from breakfast’s coffee, rising into the air. He flicks—

The water flies with such force that it blasts a hole in the door right beside the doorknob—Suho’s definitely going to be in trouble now. He gingerly puts his hand through the hole he’s made and twists around until he finds the lock and pulls on it. The door swings open.

“Master S?”

Suho slowly walks in. He has never been in Master S’s room, one of the many places forbidden to the children of the EXO Academy. It’s a grand enough room, with fancy drapes and Victorian-esque furniture decorating the large space. In the far end of the room is Master S’s bed with Master S tucked in.

“Oh,” Suho says. It’s all he can say. He would’ve dropped the dinner tray if he were still holding it.

The first thing he does is send a mass text to all of them, all of the members of the Academy. Because who else can he contact? Suho instinctively checks his text messages with Xiumin, once his biggest fan. Now Suho scrolls through a year’s worth of his daily apologies, wincing at the lack of any response from Xiumin.

Suho looks up at Master S. again, feeling a mixture of both shock and sadness and—strangely enough, relief. 

Hopefully Xiumin replies to this one. 

* * *

Luhan sucks at writing. Make sure you understand the distinction—Luhan’s actual writing is fine. Sometimes half-way decent. But he struggles with the _act_ of it, of forcing himself to physically put his hands to his old MacBook’s keyboard and nut something out anywhere close to a manuscript. 

He’s done it once, though. Written a book. Look where that got him.

“Come on, Luhan,” he tells himself. “You’re successful at something. Make it count.”

Writing wasn’t his job until he wrote _Extra-Ordinary: My Life as Number Twelve_ a couple of years back. Its success propelled him into the spotlight for the first time in his life, and now he has a publisher and a delayed book deal and a GoogleDoc with a word count of exactly 0. All Luhan wants to do right now is paint. Now that’s something he’s actually good at. 

“Hey, sir, you OK?” a waitress asks. Luhan looks up, surprised. 

“Um, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she says cheerily and moves onto another table.

Luhan must’ve been shaking or something. That’s embarrassing. Panicky, Luhan grabs his prescription bottle and downs a tablet. It’s a bit earlier in the day than he’s meant to, but it’s fine. They work well.

His eyes scan the cafe he’s in. He likes cafes. Maybe that makes him basic or a stereotype, but they’re calming and he’d rather punch out twenty thousand words here than in his cramped apartment at home. However, he’s been in here for a while now; it’s the afternoon and Luhan’s written barely anything. 

His eyes land on something curious. He’d never been on a mission when the EXO Academy was still a thing, but he’d sat in on lessons and learnt to observe his surroundings. Master S always said that you could spot most crimes before they happen because criminals always act strangely before the fact.

So when Luhan sees a burly man, seemingly sitting by himself, his body fidgety, his eyes darting to and fro, his hand lingering inside his jacket, Luhan pauses.

His panic rises again, his prescription drugs useless now. Damn it. If it were anyone in his “family”, the other boys in the EXO Academy here, and not useless Luhan—

But he has to do something.

“Sir—” Luhan starts.

But as soon as that happens, there is a crack like someone has torn a hole in the atmosphere, and pops in Luhan’s younger brother Kai—Sort of brothers? Not really. There are cries of shock around the cafe. Kai stands right before the suspicious man. 

“Uh-huh, you aren’t bringing your gang business into _my_ city,” Kai says, waggling his finger and then gripping the man’s forearms. He tosses the man almost effortlessly to the floor, and the man yells in pain. More cafe-goers yell out. Kai reaches out and to Luhan’s shock, seems to reach into thin air and brings out handcuffs. That’s new _._

“Don’t worry folks,” Kai says roguishly, reaching into the man’s jacket and pulling out a gun. “This gang member has been incapacitated.”

There is some light applause. Kai smirks. Luhan rolls his eyes. 

“Call the police, won’t you, sweetie?” Kai yawns to the waitress who smiled at Luhan, and she hurries off to do so.

Later the police finally arrive and begrudgingly take the gang member from Kai’s clutches. It’s around evening when Luhan, who’d been hovering around for a while now, rushes up to Kai before he can teleport away.

“Jongin,” Luhan says carefully. 

Kai turns to look, and the surprise on his face dissolves into distaste. “You. Why are you here?”

“I was in the cafe while you were — manhandling that guy.” Luhan follows him as he begins to stalk away. 

“Cool,” Kai snaps, but Luhan is thankful he hasn’t teleported away like he could have. 

“You have new powers,” says Luhan but he doesn’t mean it to sound so accusatory.

“Sure do. Helps catch criminals.”

“Do you do that often?” Luhan asks. “Find random criminals and then stop them? Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

They have to pause at a spotlight, and Luhan can tell Kai’s about to teleport to the other side, so he grabs his arm instinctively.

Kai sneers. “Why’re you following me?”

Luhan sighs. “I just—I haven’t seen anyone. In a while.”

“Isn’t that a good thing, for you? Didn’t you cream your pants when Tao disappeared?”

“That is not true. Don’t say that,” Luhan grumbles. He feels irritation bubbling in his body but it’s subdued. 

The silence is tense. 

“You could just be a policeman,” Luhan says, trying to keep things civil. “Instead of a vigilante.”

“I was, for a while. This book—dunno if you’ve heard of it—ruined my standing with the department.”

Another awkward silence.

Luhan sighs, letting go of Kai’s upper arm. “Jongin, I’m sorry—”

“Shut up,” Kai snarls, swivelling his body to look at Luhan. The stoplight goes green for pedestrians, but they don’t move. Luhan steps back, incredibly intimidated; Kai is taller than him. “You’re right, I am different. I have a new power. I catch criminals now. I’ve moved on. How about you?”

Luhan closes his eyes. He stays silent for a very long time. Kai finally sighs, and, when Luhan opens his eyes again, Kai isn’t leering over him. Just kicking at dirt on the floor. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing I got to say that to you now instead of tomorrow,” Kai says, almost humorously.

Luhan cocks his head to the side. “What’s tomorrow?”

For the first time, there’s some kindness in Kai’s eyes. Sad kindness. “You haven’t heard?”

* * *

“Chanyeol!” a voice comes from somewhere in the hotel’s grand lobby and Chanyeol’s about to groan inwardly—not _another_ fan who’s managed to find what hotel he’s staying at—but to his utter shock, it’s Baekhyun.

“Baekhyun!” Chanyeol says, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. “Hey.”

Baekhyun leaps off the chair he’s been sitting on, making his way over to Chanyeol in quick steps. He’s still fairylike, still much shorter than Chanyeol, but there’s a new spring in Baekhyun’s step, new straightness to his back. Weird. There’s still the incandescent sparkle in Baekhyun’s eyes though, as bright as Baekhyun’s power. As he comes closer, Chanyeol observes his getup, an unironed flannel button-up and black skinny jeans, with cheap sneakers. How one can go out looking like that is beyond Chanyeol.

For the first time, Chanyeol wonders what Baekhyun has been doing since the Academy. Baekhyun was one of the first few to leave, after all. 

Whatever. 

“Hey! I heard you were back in our home city, and I wanted to talk. I talked to reception—I said you and I were friends—but they told me to just wait here till you got back,” Baekhyun explains hurriedly, self-consciously brushing his dark hair out of his eyes. 

Ah. Still the same Baekhyun.

Chanyeol almost snorts. “Friends” is not the word he would’ve used. Nevertheless, Chanyeol, running out of things to say, offers, “Do you wanna come up to my room?”

Baekhyun nods, an overeager puppy (Chanyeol almost snickers; _definitely_ still the same Baekhyun), and together they make an awkward trip to and up the elevator. Baekhyun asks Chanyeol how his day was—long, exhausting, too many interviews—and this goes on longer than he would’ve liked. Of course, Chanyeol’s room is the suite on the highest floor. What else?

“Your room’s nice,” Baekhyun gushes when they enter. 

It is, but Chanyeol’s had nicer. The polished floor gleams, adding lustre to the tastefully modern furniture. But what Chanyeol loves the most is the windowed wall overlooking the gauzy clouds in the afternoon sky and the thrumming city of his childhood, the lights hazy in the distance. The grandeur, he’s used to. What catches his eye is the minutiae. 

“It’s a suite,” Chanyeol says lazily, tossing his room card on some cabinet or other. He notices Baekhyun standing awkwardly, not sure entirely what to do, and Chanyeol sighs as he grabs a chair. 

“Thanks.” If it were Kyungsoo or Yifan— _not_ that they would visit—they’d probably have found thirty things to complain about already. Maybe that’s why Baekhyun’s one of Chanyeol’s favourites. 

Chanyeol tears off his blazer and chucks it somewhere on the floor. Deciding he doesn’t care if Baekhyun sees him being unprofessional, he unceremoniously flops onto his bed. 

“Is that a Givenchy suit?” asks Baekhyun curiously, looking at the blazer strewn on the floor.

Chanyeol laughs. “Yeah, actually. How do you know that?”

Baekhyun waves his hand dismissively. “Helen likes the brand, I guess. I recognised the logo. She always shows me pictures of stuff she wants, but they’re always too expensive to buy for her birthday. Looking at it now … they don’t really look any different to any other suit.”

Chanyeol doesn’t like that, for some reason, so he changes the topic. “Who’s Helen? Is she your girlfriend?”

“No way! She’s from the bookstore. I’ve … told you about her.”

“You work at a bookstore?”

Baekhyun looks at him blankly, the stars in his eyes snuffed out. “I own a bookstore. I have, for three years now.” After a pause, he adds, “I told you at Jongdae’s wedding.”

“Oh.” Jongdae got married, like, two years ago. How can Baekhyun expect Chanyeol to remember?

The silence is getting too long, and Chanyeol is getting tired of this conversation, so he segues. 

“So…” He runs a hand through his perfect hair. “What’s up? Why’re you here?”

(Chanyeol catches Baekhyun staring at his bare bicep and grins. So predictable, Baekhyun. So predictable.)

“Oh, right! Um.” Baekhyun fishes for something in his pocket. It’s an envelope. “I came here to give you this.”

Chanyeol smirks again as he reaches to grab it. He recognises these. He has all fifty-two of the others in his drawer back in their childhood home. How cute that Baekhyun is still writing these, long after they’ve all left the EXO Academy. 

“Another famous love letter from Byun Baekhyun, huh? What is it this time, my dazzling smile, or my built body, or—?” 

“No,” cuts in Baekhyun, frowning again. He draws his arm back, withholding the letter. “No, no, it’s not a love letter. Not at all.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol matches his expression. “Then what?”

“The opposite, really.”

“Huh?”

“Look,” Baekhyun sighs, mustering up the courage to say something. “Chanyeol. Obviously, I’d made it clear that I had a crush on you, since I was, like, twelve. And equally as obviously, you’ve made it clear that you don’t feel the same way. And that’s fine. But what’s not fine, is the way you’ve treated me—and everyone around you, really. Like, teasing me with mixed signals and then snubbing me all throughout our teenage years. It was cruel.”

_Mixed signals? Cruel?_

“My therapist—her name’s Jia, try to remember that one—told me that you’re manipulative and egotistical. But more importantly, I’ve been weak-willed, clingy, and insecure. And I’m here to work on me. So this is one of my steps. Letting you know how I feel.”

This is more words than any EXO Academy kids have said to Chanyeol in years. He frowns, his head starting to hurt. He’s being forced to think about too many things at once. 

“Me? Manipulative and egotistical?” Chanyeol scoffs. He feels his fingertips start to heat up, start to spark, which is a little worrying; he can’t be burning down rooms again. 

“Calm down,” Baekhyun says, sighing loudly like Chanyeol is doing something wrong. “No powers, Chanyeol.”

“Calm down?” He feels his booming voice resound through the suite. 

Baekhyun sighs. “Jia said something like this might happen.”

“I don’t care what Jia thinks,” Chanyeol snaps and then a lick of flame bursts from his palm and hits the floor. Shit.

Chanyeol puts out the small fire by hurriedly shoving his stupid Givenchy blazer onto it and then stamping it out. Baekhyun observes this infuriatingly impassively. When Chanyeol’s done, Baekhyun stands up to leave. 

“Just—just read the letter, OK? I meant to have you read it in front of me, so we can have a healthy discussion, but … yeah. I put all my thoughts in it, much better than I could aloud.” He practically throws the letter into Chanyeol’s lap. 

He’s just about to leave, but both their phones ding simultaneously with the same sound. The stupid EXO Academy jingle.

“Suho,” they both say at the same time, because Suho is the only one who insists on still having all their phone numbers. Because of course Suho would. 

Baekhyun reads the text message and gasps. Chanyeol lifts his expensive, large phone apprehensively.

_“Master S is dead. Funeral tomorrow at noon.”_

He reads the text over and over again. What the fuck? 

Baekhyun is fumbling with his phone, probably doing something stupid. Like texting Suho back. “I-I have to go, Chanyeol. See you tomorrow, I guess.” 

Chanyeol barely lifts his hand as Baekhyun hurries to leave. He has half a mind to ask Baekhyun if he wants to stay over, so they can go to the funeral together, but then remembers the stupid conversation preceding this. His anger begins to flicker again, a little flame in his belly threatening to spread into an inferno.

He catches sight of Baekhyun’s envelope again and, to sate the fiery fury in his stomach, sends a burst of flame at it. Then Chanyeol watches the letter blacken and burn to nothing.

* * *

On the other side of the city, Zitao materialises, not in the exciting, swift appearance and reappearance that Kai does, but in an excruciatingly slow manner. Blue light explodes in a dark, dingy alleyway and Zitao is pulled, limb by limb, back into the world. He’s screaming but there’s no one around to hear except rats and a homeless man who flees at the sight of Zitao. 

Eventually, Zitao becomes fully corporeal, managing to land on two feet by leaning on a side building for support. 

“Finally,” he pants. Zitao brushes himself off quickly, and then his head whips around, trying to orient himself.

There’s a newspaper on the floor. He snatches it up and reads that it’s 2016—“What’s the _specific date_?” he hisses, ripping through the pages _—_ but there’s another thing that startles him even more: his hand.

Zitao jerks back, as if to escape his own hand. Why is his hand … so soft and unlined and unwrinkled and … young?

He needs a mirror, something reflective, something metallic — there! A puddle.

He leans to look into it. His fourteen-year-old self stares back. Zitao, who has been gone from his family at the EXO Academy for years, decades, centuries, is fourteen again. 

And the apocalypse is coming.

“Fuck,” he says simply. 


	2. We Only See Each Other At Weddings and Funerals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luhan, nine years ago, decides to leave the EXO Academy.
> 
> Kyungsoo, nine years later, decides to return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry I haven't updated in a week or so! These chapters get really long, and I have a lot of schoolwork to do very soon, but I'll still make efforts to update in the near future. :)

Nine years ago, Luhan decides he is going to leave the EXO Academy. Just as their joint six o’clock alarm rings throughout their home.

He thinks about it as he dashes from his bedroom, which, by virtue of being Number Twelve, is the furthest away from their shared bathroom, at the end of the hall. He tries to reach the line of four that’s already formed at the bathroom door—but Jongin teleports in front to beat Luhan for the fifth spot.

“ _Jongin_ ,” Luhan complains half-heartedly; really, he’s just upset he has no power to one-up Jongin.

“Sorry, Lu,” he says cheekily without looking his way.

“Chanyeol’s first inside,” Sehun complains to Jongin, not sparing Luhan a glance. “So you know we’re going to be here for a while.”

He thinks about it at breakfast at seven o’clock sharp in their Victorian-style dining room. Master S sits at the head of their artful, mahogany dining table. Breakfast (this week, prepared by Minseok and Yixing) is fluffy pancakes on porcelain plates with gleaming utensils. A grand chandelier teeters overhead, and the thick, wall-length drapes have been tied back so that the newly rising sun glares on them. 

They sit in designated seats, of course. Those named after an odd number sit on Master S’s left, with those given an even number on his right, in descending order. Luhan, as often happens in his life, finds himself at the very end, opposite Yifan, Number Ten. Luhan thinks he’s pretty good friends with Yifan (compared with the others) but Yifan’s … _snappish_ , at the best of times.

They aren’t allowed to speak to each other at meals, but that doesn’t stop Kyungsoo (Three) and Jongin (Five) playfully whispering to one another. Jongin steals a bit of Kyungsoo’s pancake off his plate, and their resulting giggles earn a harsh glare from Master S. Still Jongin and Kyungsoo continue to flirt. Luhan watches, somewhat jealously.

“Hey,” whispers Zitao (Eleven), his other best friend, who sits beside him. “Have you taken those yet?” 

He’s pointing at Luhan’s medicine bottle.

“Oh. I almost forgot. Thank you.” Luhan reaches for them. He’s been prescribed them for the four years he’s been at the EXO Academy; they help to reduce his anxiety. Perhaps that’s the one positive of being here, that Master S is filthy rich and pays for everything.

“No speaking at mealtimes!” bellows Master S, slamming down his cutlery. Luhan jolts, then frowns down at his pancakes.

Since it’s a Sunday morning, Master S lets them have free time after breakfast until lessons resume at ten o’clock. Luhan used to enjoy this more—normally the other eleven have lessons all-day, and all Luhan does is paint and read, so during this time he used to play them. But he’s older now—seventeen—and he’s not really close to most of them. 

He’s feeling annoyed right now, at Master S for yelling at him when he didn’t yell at Kyungsoo and Jongin. The idea to leave the EXO Academy seems better every minute. He goes to retreat to his room, but on the way there he unintentionally catches a glimpse of the plaque Master S. installed above the hallway. All their numbers, from most powerful to least. (Or, according to Yifan, most pliable to least.) 

_1\. Junmyeon_

_2\. Chanyeol_

_3\. Kyungsoo_

_4\. Sehun_

_5\. Jongin_

_6\. Baekhyun_

_7\. Minseok_

_8\. Yixing_

_9\. Jongdae_

_10\. Yifan_

_11\. Zitao_

_12\. Luhan_

This only darkens his mood.

He practically storms into his bedroom, flopping onto his bed. Maybe he can take a nap. God knows there isn’t much for him to do. 

He gives his room a cursory glance. The paintings he’s created—products of the one thing he’s skilled at—hang on every inch of every wall. It’s almost stifling. Everywhere he looks, swirls and splashes shine, of gauzy, neon colours. Most of them depict his fellow EXO Academy members. Luhan sees a portrait he painted last week, of Chanyeol ablaze, reaching out to someone painted with colours so bright Luhan can’t make him out. Another painting sees someone with his back turned, punching Junmyeon in the jaw. Another has Zitao flying in the air, an incandescent blue light consuming his tortured face.

There’s even one of himself, his arms spread-eagle, neon pink lines emanating off of him.

Luhan feels … odd for painting his brothers. Even odder that they don’t know about it. But really, Luhan justifies to himself bitterly, they _would_ if they ever came into his room. 

And then there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Luhan says, trying to suppress the surprise in his tone.

It’s Zitao and Yifan. Zitao makes himself at home, jumping on Luhan’s bed. Yifan, who rarely comes into Luhan’s room, is awestruck by the sheer amount of paintings lining the walls. Luhan watches the retracted bird wings on Yifan’s back flutter ever so slightly.

“You paint a _fuckton,_ Lu,” Yifan says, then gestures to a painting that’s beside Luhan’s door. “Is that meant to be Taozi?”

“Whoa. I look angrier. I look cooler.”

“What’s he doing in it?” demands Yifan, still scrutinising Luhan’s artwork.

Luhan feels his face heat up. Luhan’s not used to his brothers being so interested in … well, _Luhan_. “I don’t know. Inspiration just comes to my head sometimes. I never know what I’m painting.”

“You’re fucking weird,” Yifan yawns. “Well, they’re pretty good.”

Luhan smiles, small. “Thanks. I didn’t know you were so sweet.”

“I wish I could paint,” Zitao says.

“You have your powers.”

Zitao hums. “That’s true.”

“So, uh, what do I owe the visit?” Luhan asks, and Yifan finally joins them on the bed, slumping facedown. His feathers flutter gently with the movement and Luhan wants to touch them. “Why aren’t you play-fighting with Chanyeol or something?”

Yifan snorts, the sound muffled. “His ego is already too big. He’d never shut up about it if he wiped the floor with me. Or Taozi. Or us both.”

“My power’s getting _stronger_ , I’m telling you,” Zitao complains. Luhan knows he’s convinced he can do insane things with his powers, but all he’s really managed to do so far is make criminals freeze for a few seconds at a time. 

Luhan and Yifan laugh a little. It’s easy to forget how young Zitao is. He’s only fourteen. He still eats Nutella and marshmallow sandwiches. 

“At least I have powers,” Zitao snaps, and Luhan stops laughing.

“Why are you here?” Luhan asks again, more quietly this time.

“Yifan saw you storm off. He was worried,” Zitao says, smirking. He doesn’t even seem like he registered his previous words’ effect on Luhan’s mood. 

Yifan makes a noise. “Was not.” 

“He _was_ ,” Zitao says cheerfully, but he gives Luhan a look and his grin fades. “Luhan … don’t run away.”

“Tactful,” Yifan yawns.

“What? What do you – how did you–?” 

Luhan whips his head back and forth between his two favourite brothers. 

“What…?” he finishes weakly.

Zitao shrugs. “We suspected.”

“Even Jongdae suspects,” adds Yifan flatly.

“Jongdae–” Luhan cuts off and then shakes his head. He feels his head about to burst, an army of thoughts at war inside his head. “Fine. It’s true. I wanna run away, for good.”

Zitao shakes his head. “No way, Lu.”

“I’m useless,” Luhan remarks, his fists clenching. “I have no powers. I don’t know why Master S. adopted me in the first place—but I’m glad he did. Otherwise I’d still be on the streets, stealing to get by. I’d probably be dead by now. So, I’m happy he took me in. And now I know you guys, the best friends I’ve ever met. But the other nine? They don’t care about me. And Master S definitely doesn’t care about me. I get the last pick in everything. I don’t get included in family portraits. And, the sad thing is, I understand why! I don’t have any powers, anything that makes me special. So, yeah. I have to leave.”

The other two look stunned.

“That’s … more words than you’ve ever spoken,” says Zitao.

“Well, I _am_ feeling pretty mad,” Luhan admits.

“First time for everything,” Yifan drawls.

“Don’t you guys see? I have to leave. There is nothing else for me to do. None of the other nine will care if I leave.”

“The other nine care. They’d miss you,” Zitao whines.

Luhan looks him dead in the eye, and, for a second, the world looks different, as if it’s been painted with broad, imprecise strokes. But then he blinks, and everything looks regular again.

“No, they wouldn’t. Plus—”

At that moment, there’s the sound of the EXO Academy jingle, a repetitious riff that echoes throughout the mansion. Yifan groans—it’s the alarm sound that signals to the EXO Academy that they’re needed on a mission. A bank’s being robbed, perhaps, or there’s a shooter nearby. Whatever it is, Luhan’s two brothers instantly jump into action. Zitao gives him an apologetic look and Luhan is left alone in his bedroom. He shuts his door, but he can still hear the chaos of the hallway, of Sehun yelling for his mask, or of Baekhyun yelping as he trips over something. He can still hear the sound of a family he’s not a part of, doing what they do best. What Luhan can’t do.

Because, as much as Luhan likes the little trio of Ten, Eleven and Twelve, he’s always brought back down to reality. He always remembers that he has no powers. He remembers how truly ordinary he is. 

And then he starts to pack.

* * *

Kyungsoo’s life, nine years later, is perfect.

Kyungsoo’s parents—his real biological family—make a great effort to make him feel at home. And they have, ever since he came back to his childhood suburban home. They brought his childhood bedroom back to its former glory, decorated still with his old LEGO creations and dinosaur posters, from all but fifteen years ago. They always prepare foods that Kyungsoo apparently loved when he was younger. Kyungsoo even has an older brother—a real one—named Seungsoo, who’s moved out but visits occasionally, unlike any of his EXO Academy “brothers.” When Seungsoo comes home, he gives Kyungsoo’s noogies and asks if Kyungsoo has a girlfriend yet and is exactly how Kyungsoo imagines an older brother to be like. 

And Kyungsoo hates it.

Kyungsoo feels like a puzzle piece, found in the dirty debris under a couch after years of being missing—but when Kyungsoo’s reinserted into the jigsaw, he doesn’t quite fit back in. Something’s off. He’s misshapen now.

So when he gets the text from Suho, he feels a sick sense of excitement. He jumps a little in his seat at the dinner table.

“Kyungsoo?” Mrs Do asks, her eyeglasses illuminating concerned eyes.

“What did we say about phones at the table?” clucks Mr Do.

Kyungsoo fights the instinct to sneer. He’s _twenty-three._ Then again, he’s still living under his parents’ roof. He needs to move out.

“Sorry,” he says slowly. “I just got a text from my—from Suho. From the EXO Academy.”

Immediately, their faces sour. They don’t like any mention of Kyungsoo’s life, of anything that happened in his life between ages eleven and twenty. 

“He says … Master S died.”

Kyungsoo knows his parents remember Master S. They exchange a glance. Kyungsoo reckons they feel guilty about letting Master S take Kyungsoo away all those years ago, for the greater good. Because of Kyungsoo’s powers. Kyungsoo honestly resents his parents a little. But they’re trying _so hard_ right now.

“We’re very sorry, Kyungsoo,” Mrs Do says kindly. “We know he meant … something to you. Are you all right?”

“I’m all right. The funeral is tomorrow,” he says slowly.

“You want to go to the funeral?” Mr Do asks gruffly. “Don’t you think it’ll…”

“It’ll unearth some bad memories best left forgotten,” Mrs Do finishes, and they exchange a smile. It’s sickening how regular they are.

“Exactly. It’s unnecessary. I’m sure those boys will understand.”

“They were my family too,” Kyungsoo murmurs, and his parents flinch. Kyungsoo knows it’s harsh to say that, but it’s not untrue. And his parents are as immovable as mountains.

“Must you go?” sighs Mrs Do.

Kyungsoo misses the feeling of being in tune with the ground his feet stand upon, of sensing the types of stones under the layer of the earth. He misses the visceral feeling of slamming his hands down to the earth and watching rocks erupt outward. He misses sending whole boulders toppling onto criminals with a flick of his finger.

He misses Kai.

His parents are like mountains? Well, Kyungsoo can _move mountains_. He was Number Three. He _is_.

“Yes,” he says. His parents both sigh.

They take a while to respond until Mr Do makes a little joke: “Well, at least he’s going somewhere new. Maybe Kyungsoo can finally find a girlfriend!”

“A city girl,” Mrs Do marvels, laughing along. 

“Yeah,” he mutters quietly into his mashed potatoes. “Girl.” 

* * *

The day after, he finds himself in the back of a taxicab, not before kissing Mrs Do goodbye and giving Mr Do a one-handed hug.

Now he brims with the feeling of freedom he hasn’t felt in a long time. At some point the driver recognises him as “D.O. or something” from “that superhero thing my kid liked”, and she starts talking to him with infectious excitement until Kyungsoo feels a grin stretching on his own face too.

They finally pull up in front of the EXO Academy. And just because Kyungsoo is feeling delighted at the prospect of returning to his old life—even for a day—he exits the taxicab, his feet crunching on the gravel driveway, and, with his powers, make a few pebbles float up and crunch themselves together to form something vaguely resembling a person. 

“For your kid,” he says, handing it to the cabbie. “Tell her D.O. made it.”

Kyungsoo watches her gleefully drive off, the new accession sitting atop her steering wheel, until a blasé laugh cuts his stupor short.

“That’s cute. Do you do charity now?”

Kyungsoo whips around, half-expecting an attack, and sighs in relief. “Sehun. Hey.”

“You look poorer than usual,” says Sehun, strolling up lazily. His hair is dyed an absurd shade of blonde, and his striped, branded button-up and ripped skinny jeans make Kyungsoo feel inferiorly dressed. Then he remembers they’re attending a _funeral._ Sehun breezes past Kyungsoo without a second glance. 

“Nice to see you too, Sehun,” grumbles Kyungsoo, struggling to catch up with his baby brother. Damn those long legs of his.

“I wouldn’t say it’s nice,” Sehun sighs, brushing back his perfect hair. “But it’ll be fun to see everyone again. Do you think everyone will turn up?”

Kyungsoo frowns as they approach the mansion they once lived in. The gates have been left open, and they lead towards their Victorian-esque home. The garden, Kyungsoo’s excited to see, has been kept in good shape, a lovely-well kept thing framing the entrance to the EXO Academy house. By comparison, the house, looming overhead, sags sadly and blocks out the rays of the sun.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Kyungsoo means it. There’s probably nothing in their lives as exciting as those years playing superhero.

“Does this hellhole not bring back terrible memories, D.O.?”

Kyungsoo bristles. Somehow the moniker sounds a lot more mocking coming from Sehun than from the cabbie. “Yeah, but don’t you have good memories too?”

“The best memory I’ve ever had,” Sehun says, smirking, “is yesterday evening, when I got a text saying Master S died.”

Kyungsoo snorts, ignoring him. He brims with excitement as they reach the pathway to the front door, closing his eyes as he walks. His feet recognise the sturdy stone of the path. He remembers the sheer amount of times they practised in the front yard, Kyungsoo slashing a hand in the air and sending sheets of gravel flying, only to be rebuffed by a lazy kick in the air from Sehun, sending everything flurrying back. He sighs happily.

“If you’re done orgasming,” Sehun says. Kyungsoo opens his eyes, thoroughly embarrassed. “Should we knock?”

They’re saved from having to make a decision. The door swings open, and inside is their leader, Suho. Kyungsoo immediately notices he looks stressed, which is jarring.

“Hello,” Kyungsoo says awkwardly.

Suho nods respectfully, as he does, and Kyungsoo fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“Almost everyone’s here now. Most of them are in the living room. Come inside,” Suho says, his voice not quite as commanding as Kyungsoo remembers it to be.

Sehun says nothing and slinks past, disappearing ahead. There’s some muffled conversation up ahead that Kyungsoo can hardly hear.

Kyungsoo steps into the mansion, and he feels as if he has been thrust into the past. The glorious entrance hall is a bit dustier than it used to be (back when all twelve of them had rotating chore shifts) and the ornaments, like the umbrella stand or the vases, look a little worse for wear—but it still reminds him pleasantly of those days of training and crime-fighting and pushing each other to get ahead in the line for the bathroom. He gets a little giddy thinking about it.

Kyungsoo and Suho, following speedy Sehun, are surprised when he pokes his head out gleefully. “You guys just missed a fight!”

Suho, groaning, speeds up. Kyungsoo apprehensively follows suit. The living room is just as spacious as the other rooms in the mansion, though its dusty stillness suggests nobody’s used it in a long time. Jongdae sits on a couch, slumped over sleepily, and, for a second, Kyungsoo wonders if he’s knocked out. Baekhyun sits beside him awkwardly, scrolling through his phone. Kyungsoo instinctively frowns when his eyes land on Luhan, who sits silently and sombrely, as far away from everyone as possible.

“Well, it was more like Kai yelling at Luhan, and Luhan just sitting there and taking it,” Sehun says as they walk in, loud enough that everyone else can hear him. “As expected.”

 _Jongin_ —?

And there’s Kai, in the corner of the room, arms crossed. Their eyes meet and Kyungsoo’s heart skips a beat. Suddenly he’s sixteen again, sneaking into the upstairs broom closet with Kai so that they can kiss with abandon. Suddenly he’s sitting under the backyard tree with Kai, grasping one of Kai’s lovely hands, caressing and kissing the fingers he knows so well. Suddenly, he forgets why they stopped talking at all, why they haven’t talked in years.

“Kyungsoo,” Kai says breathily, and he teleports so he’s right in front of Kyungsoo. They look at each other. Everyone looks at them.

“Gross,” Sehun says, ruining the mood. “Hey, Junmyeon?”

Suho flinches visibly at his birth name. “Yes?”

“Can we get started? Is everyone here yet?”

“Do you have somewhere else to be?” Jongin remarks, looking away from Kyungsoo for the first time.

“Yes, I do,” Sehun says airily. “Some of us have something called a job, you know?”

“Yixing and Yifan are exploring the house,” Suho interrupts. “The only two that haven’t shown up yet are Chanyeol and … Xiumin.”

Sehun’s not done talking. “Is Jongdae—”

“On drugs?” Baekhyun says, smiling impishly. “Hell yeah.”

Sehun wolf-whistles and walks over, poking at Jongdae. “I was gonna say dead, but you’re right. Who knew Jongdae was a junkie?”

Kyungsoo can’t care less about the conversation they’re having. He’s still staring at Kai, drinking in his dark outfit and unkempt hair and sly smirk; he’s looking Kyungsoo over too. Kai looks like he’s about to suggest he and Kyungsoo go “explore” the house too, but at that moment the front doorbell rings. And then it rings again. And again.

“Chanyeol,” Kai and Kyungsoo say simultaneously, and then share a grin. Somewhere, Sehun makes a gagging noise.

“I’ll get the door,” Suho says, as if anyone else were going to.

“You’re wearing … spandex?” Kyungsoo says.

Kai scoffs. “Leather.” He leans in. “Why, do you like it?”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, but can’t fight the grin on his face spreading on his face. “No. I preferred the schoolboy look on you.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” Kai teases.

“Shut up,” Kyungsoo says, laughing. Holding his forehead. “Just shut up, Jongin. How have you been?”

“Fighting crime. Sending criminals to jail,” he says casually. Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. “What about you, Mr Do? I almost thought you died.”

“Me too,” Sehun calls out. 

“I went back home.”

Kai is taken aback. “Like, back to your parents?”

He frowns a little at that, but before Kyungsoo can ask, Chanyeol and Xiumin walk in, Suho on their heels. If Suho looked stressed before, he looks practically panicky now. Xiumin brushes past Suho roughly and goes to sit beside Sehun.

Chanyeol is dressed exactly how Kyungsoo would think he is, as if he’s going to a photoshoot rather than a funeral. His eyes skip over Kyungsoo and Kai instantly, and when they land on Baekhyun, he visibly scowls.

“Look, the living room’s dusty too!” he complains. “Why don’t you hire a maid or something? How does Master S. let you live in this filth?”

Suho growls. “Chanyeol. You haven’t been here in years. You can’t come in here and—”

“Can we get started?” Sehun cuts in.

“Everyone’s here now,” Baekhyun adds, not smiling anymore for some reason.

Suho looks like he’s torn between arguing and throwing Chanyeol to the ground. “Fine! I’ll go get the others. Don’t go anywhere. We have to talk about something first.”

“Another rousing speech from Number One,” says Sehun, whipping out his phone. “I cannot wait.”

“What are you doing here?” snarls Chanyeol suddenly. Everyone looks up. He’s glaring directly at Luhan, who suddenly looks terrified. Kyungsoo pities him, even if Luhan’s tell-all autobiography gets first place in a list of Worst Things Brothers Can Do To Each Other.

“I—”

“You have a lot of gall, thinking you can just come here.” Chanyeol stalks towards Luhan, his finger pointed furiously. Kyungsoo notices that it’s sparking. “Do you know how damaging your book was to me, how many brand deals I lost?”

Kai, who was yelling at Luhan just a few minutes ago, teleports so he stands in Chanyeol’s way and says, “Hey, dude. Lay off him.”

Chanyeol scoffs. “You’re defending him?”

“No way,” Kai spits. “But we’re at a fucking funeral. Have some respect.”

“I don’t care. Master S. wouldn’t want him here.”

Kai doesn’t back down. “Well. He’s. Dead.”

Chanyeol shoots a burst of flame from his finger that hits a window curtain. Kyungsoo sighs. Xiumin casually freezes the fire to put it out.

“Calm down, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun commands, standing up. Kyungsoo is shocked. Baekhyun never did this when they were kids.

Chanyeol, too, looks vaguely surprised. He snarls again but backs away.

At that moment, Suho comes in, whipping his head back and forth as if trying to detect if any conflict happened while he was gone. Yifan—typically grumpy-looking, his tallness hidden by his hunch and his wings folded to his back—and Yixing—looking far too happy about being at a funeral—stand behind him.

Sehun claps cheekily but nobody else joins in. “Finally, the gang’s all back together!”

“Why is that curtain frozen?” asks Suho.

Xiumin—surprisingly—does not answer. He does not even spare Suho a glance. Suho flinches.

“Come on, let’s go,” Sehun says, standing up. “I wanna go desecrate his grave or something.”

“ _First_ ,” Suho says loudly. “I want to talk. I think … Master S was murdered. And I think it was one of us that did it.”

* * *

Immediately there are sounds of outrage and shock.

“Asshole,” mutters Baekhyun, taking out his phone once more. 

Chanyeol sneers. “What is wrong with you, Junmyeon?”

“Good job, Number One,” snaps Yifan, adjusting his glasses angrily. “Great way to get the whole family back together.”

Jongdae even blinks awake at the uproar. “W-What’s happening?” he moans.

“Jongdae!” Yixing says, grinning and moving to side on his other side. 

“Nothing, Suho just thinks we committed patricide,” Kai says, sounding amused. 

“Be right back, guys, I’m just going to go kill Luhan,” Sehun sighs and gets up. (Luhan pales.) 

“Look, _sit down_ , everyone,” Suho snaps. “When I found Master S’s body in his bedroom, his glasses weren’t anywhere to be seen.”

“So?” demands Chanyeol, arms crossed tight against his chest. 

“When have we ever seen him without his glasses?” Suho shoots back.

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and finally decides to speak up. “Maybe he just took them off, you know, because he was _in bed_.”

“No, they’re _nowhere_ ,” Suho insists. “I couldn’t find them. I looked all over the house.”

“What did the coroner say?” Luhan asks quietly. “What was the cause of death?”

Suho shoots him a look. “Heart failure.”

“Problem solved,” says Kyungsoo. “It rules us all out.”

“It doesn’t rule out anyone,” Suho says. “I still suspect foul play. Where are his glasses?”

“Look, aren’t _you_ the fucker that stayed in this house all these years?” says Yifan. “Why aren’t we all pointing fingers at you?”

Suho sighs and presses two fingers to his temple. “Now you guys are thinking. Obviously _I_ didn’t do it. But who else in the whole world would have any motive to kill Master S? He was ... shitty to us all.”

There is only silence. The words are powerful coming from Number One.

“Maybe he committed suicide,” Sehun says flippantly, ruining the tension. “I’d kill myself if I were him.”

“Maybe he made enemies we don’t know about,” Chanyeol growls. “We don’t know shit about what he did—” 

“Shh,” Luhan says.

Chanyeol looks enraged. Kyungsoo almost thinks he sees literal fire in his eyes. “Don’t tell me to—”

“No, shh, I think I hear something,” Luhan whispers.

And then the shooting starts.

* * *

“…well, it was me, him and Yifan, and we were just talking in my room for a bit. And then the alarm went off, and they had to go,” Luhan’s saying shakily, nine years ago.

It’s that same day when he decides he is going to leave. It’s well into the evening, and he’s standing in Master S’s office, having been summoned only minutes before.

Master S’s eyes bore into him, so much that Luhan averts his gaze, preferring to look at the dusty carpet or the sturdy wooden legs of Master S’s desk or the bookshelves stuffed with ancient volumes. Anything but Master S’s scrutinising gaze.

“And what did you do for those few hours we were gone?”

Despite everything, Luhan feels humiliated when he admits, “Well, I turned on the morning news, and watched the EXO Academy save all those people from that building. It was live footage. And then I went to paint. And then I made myself lunch. I painted some more, and then I took a nap. And I woke up to Yixing—sorry, Number Eight—banging on my door, t-telling me … that Eleven’s missing.”

Master S makes an ambiguous noise and adjusts the spectacles perched upon his sharp nose. “I see, Twelve. You are dismissed.” He immediately sits back down at his desk, flipping open a page of his notebook and returning to his work.

Luhan’s affronted. It takes him a moment to find his voice again. “What? That’s it?”

Master S looks back up, seemingly surprised that Luhan is still even there. “Yes. Is there a problem?”

Luhan clenches his fists, the emotions festering in him all day threatening to break loose. “Don’t you have anything to say? Leads? Updates? Reassurance, maybe? Have you contacted the police yet? I know you think you’re above them, but they probably have enough resources to help find Taozi. Say something!”

And Master S does something extremely odd. He merely gapes at Luhan for a few moments. It’s an expression Luhan has never seen Master S wear.

“Luhan, have you taken your medicine today?” he says finally.

Luhan stands there, a bit surprised, if only because Master S referred to him by his name. “Uh—no. It must’ve slipped my mind.”

Master S’s bushy brows furrow and he clicks his tongue. “You’re meant to take it twice-daily.” He pulls out a cabinet in his desk and withdraws one of Luhan’s prescribed medicine bottles. It rattles as Master S throws it at him, and Luhan barely catches it. Master S slides over his half-finished glass of water. “Here. Drink from mine. It is imperative you follow doctor’s orders.”

“Right,” Luhan says, only frowning a little.

Luhan returns to his room soon after, sitting almost catatonically on his bed. He feels oddly subdued after that conversation, as if his shouting had drained the life from him. He can’t believe that the bedroom next to him, Zitao’s, Number Eleven’s, is empty—but he can’t bring himself to do anything about it.

He stares at the painting he made today, the canvas still on its easel. The inspiration just came to him that afternoon and took over his body. It’s a watercolour piece of Zitao, in a dark alleyway, picking up a newspaper, with a grim expression on his face, older but still sweet.

They have to find Zitao. They have to.

He starts to unpack.

* * *

Luhan stays for two years, just in case Zitao comes back; he makes a Nutella and marshmallow sandwich every night and leaves it out on the porch. Zitao never comes back.

Luhan gives up hope. He leaves, and he doesn’t come back either.

* * *

Sehun screams in the present day, and they all instinctively duck, but they’re all unharmed. 

“What the fuck is that?” yells Yifan over the gunfire. Kyungsoo thinks it’s coming from the front door.

“I’m gonna check,” Kai says instantly, and Kyungsoo’s heart leaps.

“Kai, _no_ —”

But he’s already disappeared. And so Kyungsoo tumbles out of the room, ignoring his brothers’ protests behind him.

“Stupid Jongin,” he’s muttering to himself. “Always getting himself into shit.”

He hears footsteps behind him, but he doesn’t have time to look because once he bursts into the entrance hall, he has to retreat instantly. There’s a gunfight happening, shots ringing out, with Kai in the very middle.

“Jesus!” someone yells behind him, pulling down to avoid bullets. It’s Suho, eyes wide as he watches.

Kyungsoo whips his head around, recalling the quick skills of observation Master S drilled into them. The invaders all wear suits, like they’re lawyers instead of gunmen, their faces obscured by creepy face-masks. Kyungsoo counts five; they corner Kai who is ducked beside the umbrella stand. Suddenly Kai teleports behind them and shoves one into another.

A twisted sense of nostalgic excitement fills Kyungsoo.

“ _Come on_ ,” he yells to Suho and the other brothers running towards them. “Let’s do this.”

The fighting’s a blur to Kyungsoo. They’re inside a house, giving him a lamentable lack of things which he can use his power on; but he still senses a pot plant nearby, summoning small pebbles and firing them with a slash of his hand. The attacker Kyungsoo fights is skilled, but Kyungsoo’s limbs fall back into the patterns ingrained into him as a teenager. Kyungsoo aims a kick at the attacker’s knees, sending him toppling. As a finishing blow, Kyungsoo pelts the pebbles at the attacker’s head.

Kai materialises next to him with a crack. “Just like old times, eh?”

Kyungsoo’s about to grin back at him, but the attacker he sent down is up again, about to aim a shot at Kyungsoo with his gun. Thankfully roaring flames send the invader running.

“You’re welcome,” says Chanyeol, smirking. 

“There’s more coming from the other door!” shrieks Sehun, and the whoosh of a strong breeze echoes through the large space. A white-hot light flashes briefly, and Kyungsoo knows it’s Baekhyun.

“They’re _strong!_ ” yells Yifan from overhead, his glorious wings flapping as he lifts an invader and chucks him at a wall.

“Guys, guys, look outside!” screams Luhan, as Kyungsoo pummels more stones at an invincible attacker.

“What is he _doing_? He’s going to get himself killed!” Kai teleports himself to where Luhan is and yanks him back into the living room.

“Help!” shrieks Xiumin from the other side, and Kyungsoo watches Suho, in a whirlwind of water, torpedo himself across the entrance hall, slicing his arms through the air to hurtle liquid blades. Kai’s back beside Kyungsoo, but the attackers hold their own, sending Kyungsoo toppling to the ground.

“LOOK OUTSIDE!” bellows Luhan again, scrambling towards the staircase once more. “There’s someone else outside!”

Sure enough, Kyungsoo sees a shadowy figure outside, darting at inhuman speed towards their bullet-holed front door and swears—the last thing they need is another indestructible foe.

But when the person reaches inside their house, he doesn’t slow down. He vaults across the room expeditiously, as if he couldn’t care less about the rules of time, and everywhere he goes, one of the attackers falls. By the time Kyungsoo has blinked, every single one of the attackers has fallen to their knees. And then, simultaneously, they all scream in fear, looking up at the mysterious figure, and fleeing out the front door. The EXO Academy watch this, heavily breathing but speechless. 

“They’re scared of me, you see. As they should be,” their saviour says, panting. He has a simple knife in his hand. His voice is strangely familiar, and Kyungsoo narrows his eyes as their saviour steps into the light.

Luhan screams, and Kyungsoo whirls back around, about to fend off another attacker—but Luhan’s not yelling because of any attacker. He’s looking straight at their saviour.

It’s Zitao.


	3. Time Itself Resides In His Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suho, Kyungsoo and Kai investigate the mysterious circumstances surrounding Master S's death. Chanyeol drives Baekhyun and Sehun home. Tao (reluctantly) answers some of Luhan's questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! i'm really sorry i haven't uploaded in so long. here's an extra-long chapter as compensation aha!  
> please enjoy ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡ 
> 
> random life updates:  
> \- it's my birthday next week! hooray <3  
> \- i watched umbrella academy s2 and i really liked it omg  
> \- i didn't cry a single time during my exam block!

Nobody moves.

“Can someone tell me the date? The _exact_ date,” Zitao commands.

He looks as he did all those years ago when he disappeared, only now he’s wearing a suit that’s too large on him. He still looks scary, Luhan thinks, the knife glinting and razor-sharp smoulder giving off a threatening aura Luhan has never associated with Zitao.

Luhan’s the only one who can find his voice. “The thirtieth.”

“Of?”

“November.”

Zitao thinks for a second. “Good. Well, I’m going to make a sandwich.”

Then everyone bursts into an uproar. Still, nobody goes near him. Luhan slowly staggers to his feet.

“Where have you _been_?” demands Chanyeol, booming voice louder than the rest.

“The future. It’s shit, by the way,” Zitao says, and Luhan startles. Zitao _never_ swore back when they were teens.

“Called it!” says Sehun, grinning.

“So you can time travel,” Kyungsoo says in awe. “Everyone always thought, you know. That you were pretty much powerless.”

 _Like Luhan_ is all but implied.

“Well, I’m not,” Zitao says brusquely, crossing his arms. “Master S died already, right?”

“How do you know that?” demands Kai.

“What part of _the future_ do you not understand?” snaps Zitao. “How did he go out?”

“Heart failure,” answers Chanyeol lazily.

“Which can’t be right,” adds Suho.

“Interesting,” says Zitao, sounding uninterested. He begins to walk away.

“ _Zitao_ ,” says Suho loudly. “It’s been _nine years_. Where are you going?”

“It’s been a lot longer than _nine years_.”

“How many?” asks Baekhyun.

Zitao waves his hand dismissively. “Time works differently where I’ve been. Let’s say I’ve lived at least _double_ the life you all have lived. Maybe even longer.”

“And _where_ is it that you’ve been?” Yifan drawls.

Zitao scowls, immediately defensive. “None of your business.”

“Zitao.” Suho sighs. “The least you can do is answer our questions. Who were those people attacking us? Where did you come from? How did you come back?”

Zitao glares at the eleven of them. “Fine. I’ll answer everyone’s questions. But I would like to attend my dead father’s funeral first. Is that all right with all of you?”

Silence. Luhan wants to give him a hug.

“I need a sandwich,” mutters Zitao.

“No, it’s fine,” Luhan says quietly. “I’ll make it. Nutella and marshmallows, right?”

Zitao blinks, and suddenly he seems like he really _is_ fourteen again. “Yeah.”

* * *

The funeral doesn’t go on for very long. They go out into the backyard, the EXO Academy reunited. Everyone brandishes umbrellas because of the rain; nobody makes a move to clean up the trashed entrance hall just yet. All twelve of them stand in a circle under the shadow of the marble statue of fourteen-year-old Zitao, erected all those years ago when he went missing. (Into the future, apparently.)

Luhan feels like he’s seventeen again. There’s Kyungsoo and Kai huddled under one umbrella, just like old times—before _whatever_ happened that broke them apart—and Suho and Chanyeol are bickering over who should hold the urn with Master S’s ashes. Xiumin murmurs with Yixing, Jongdae crouched sleepily between them, and Sehun chatters away to a quiet Baekhyun. Yifan grumbles to himself beside Luhan; his wings twitch, as they do when Yifan’s irritated.

And then there’s Zitao.

Luhan can’t stop staring at him now, in the flesh. He looks exactly like the statue, clad in the EXO Academy uniform, the sweater vest over the schoolboy shirt. The collar slightly stained with blood. Zitao—half a foot shorter than him—stands beside Luhan but says nothing. Luhan sees everyone giving Zitao glances too. Zitao himself looks like he couldn’t care less, inspecting his wristwatch with beady, analytical eyes.

Suho clearing his throat brings Luhan’s attention back to the centre of the circle, where he stands, holding the urn. Gracelessly, Suho dumps the ashes on the wet ground; there’s no wind, so Sehun lazily conjures up a breeze to whoosh away Master S’s ashes—to a place, Luhan hopes, that is very far away.

“Does anyone want to say a few words?” asks Suho.

Nobody responds except the wind.

“All-righty then.” Suho clears his throat once more. “Master S was … a complicated figure. But he took us all in and trained us since we were young. For that, we have to thank him. Sometimes he was our trainer, our coach, sometimes our father or caregiver—”

“He was a monster.” Yifan’s voice cuts in sharply on Luhan’s left. He sounds contemplative, but cold.

(They haven’t properly spoken to each other all morning—all year—but it has to mean something that Yifan chooses to stand next to Luhan, right? Right?)

“He was a bad person and the worst caregiver we could’ve asked for,” Yifan continues. “He should’ve left us on the streets to die. It would’ve been a better fate.”

Luhan hears Yixing sigh. Chanyeol laughs.

“It’s a funeral,” Kai says warningly. “Let’s have some respect.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Number Five,” barks Yifan.

“Yifan—” Kyungsoo starts.

“My name is _Number Ten_ ,” snaps Yifan. “Because that’s how Master S referred to us. By numbers.”

Luhan agrees, of course. If he were a braver person he’d be spouting the same words Yifan is. But he still sighs audibly. Nothing good ever comes from the twelve of them being together.

“I think you’ve talked enough today,” Suho says, not entirely unkindly.

“No, let the failure speak,” says Chanyeol, humour in his voice, “and stop bossing everyone around.”

“ _Failure_ —?”

Yifan’s indignation is drowned out by Suho’s. 

“I’m Number _One_ ,” Suho reminds everyone uselessly.

Chanyeol snorts. “Is that so? Look where that got you, big boy.”

“Guys,” Luhan pipes up quietly, earning some looks.

Suho rolls his eyes then turns back to Chanyeol. “Don’t call me _big boy_ —”

“Do they still do that?” Zitao asks Luhan suddenly. “Dick measuring contests?”

Luhan’s so surprised he laughs. “I guess.”

“Typical. Such children,” Zitao says, an eyebrow raised.

Luhan almost laughs again, but Suho and Chanyeol are still arguing.

“Yeah?” Chanyeol’s saying. “Look at where I am in life, and then look at you.”

Chanyeol stabs Suho’s chest with his index finger. The sparks singe a small spot on Suho’s jacket.

Luhan’s stress levels rise as the two glare at each other. 

“Guys,” Yixing says. “Jongin’s right. We’re at a funeral. Let’s calm down—”

Chanyeol throws the first punch. Suho easily dodges it. Luhan thinks Suho is the only one—except Kai—who still trains for heroics. Chanyeol makes up for his lack of practice with his brute power, though, shooting sheets of flame—only for them to dissipate into smoke as Suho throws up a wall of water as a shield. Suho’s smaller than the lofty Chanyeol, but that gives him speed, darting around.

Luhan wants to leave.

“Hit him! Hit him!” Sehun says gleefully, though Luhan can’t tell who he’s rooting for.

“I don’t have time for this,” complains Zitao, and he looks like he’s about to leave.

“Guys,” Luhan says to Suho and Chanyeol, and then louder, “ _stop it_.”

Then Luhan does something reckless: he walks into the middle of the battlefield because he knows nothing he can _say_ can stop them. And he just wants to go home.

But something odd happens. Luhan notices that Suho’s expression is frozen, and it takes him a further second to realise that Suho’s entire body is frozen, jumping to avoid a jet of flame flying towards, which is also paused in the air. Luhan then realises the rain itself has stopped, empty noise in his ears, droplets suspended curiously in the air. Everything around Luhan is still, Chanyeol’s outstretched hand, Sehun’s immobile hair, Baekhyun’s unstirring frown. Luhan, however, finds that he can still move, taking a further step.

“Luhan,” Zitao says beside him, startling him.

“Zitao!” Luhan doesn’t know what to do. He still wants to hug Zitao, but he resorts to hanging his arms by his side. “Did you … do this?”

“It’s just Tao now,” Tao says briskly, ignoring Luhan’s question. “That’s what they call me at SM.”

“Sorry. Tao. At _what_?”

He scowls. Then he reaches up to grab Luhan by the shoulders. Luhan thinks for a second he’s getting a hug, but Tao merely drags Luhan a little to the left. For some reason.

“I forgot how little you all know,” Tao’s saying while checking his watch. “Hmm. Luhan, I’ll catch you up to speed with everything soon. But I have to leave. Everyone’s wasting so much time here, and I can’t keep _this_ ,” he says while gesturing to their frozen surroundings, “up for very long.”

“Tao.” Luhan looks down at him earnestly. “We — _I_ — haven’t seen you in almost a decade. You can’t disappear on me now.”

Tao dismisses him instantly. “Look. I’ll see you soon, OK?”

“Tao—”

But he’s already bounding away, and suddenly time resumes once more. The rain splatters against his skin in earnest. A jet of fire narrowly misses Luhan’s right side—oh, _that’s_ why—and he merely gets a heavy torrent of water, knocking him over.

“Luhan!” Kai hisses, teleporting to him and pulling him up.

“You hit Luhan,” Chanyeol accuses Suho. But he’s stopped blasting flames for now, and he merely stands there, arms crossed.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Suho snaps. Then to Luhan: “That was stupid of you. Are you OK?”

Luhan looks down at his drenched clothes. He’s a little humiliated, to be honest. “Yes. Just wet.”

“This is such a waste of time,” Yifan says, stomping back inside.

“I’m with Yifan,” Kai says, teleporting beside Kyungsoo and leaving.

“Agreed,” says Sehun. Soon everybody is heading back inside the house.

Chanyeol sneers as he stalks away. “Nice going, Number One.”

“Where the _hell_ is Zitao?” asks— _whines_ —Suho to no one.

Luhan, who doesn’t know the answer himself, lets Yifan know that he’s leaving on his way out.

* * *

Suho tries hard to keep everyone in the house. Kai can see that. But it doesn’t work. Luhan left even before Suho attempts to rally the EXO Academy—probably for the best, Kai reckons—and their numbers quickly dwindle after that. Baekhyun cites the need to go home for an early shift tomorrow morning. Chanyeol needs to be on time to some dinner tonight. Yifan claims he has essays to mark.

And Zitao— _goddamn Zitao_ , who’s been missing from them for years—left without a trace again. It’s too much for poor Suho to handle. Kai half-thinks they all imagined Zitao and the intruders, but the destroyed entrance hall proves they were here. So, where is Zitao?

“We need to find out who killed Master S,” Suho, hair drenched from the rain and his clothes smoking from his fight, insists to Sehun; he, of course, gives no reason as to why he needs to leave so badly.

“Good luck with that,” Sehun says cheerfully, slamming the front door as he exits.

“It’s OK, Junmyeon,” Kai says. “They’re all fuckers.”

“It’s Suho,” Suho says, turning away and stalking towards the kitchen.

“OK, sir,” Kai says, exchanging a smirk with Kyungsoo. They follow Suho.

“What are you guys still doing here? Don’t you have places to be?” Suho demands, pointedly not looking up at them by focusing on the cup he’s filling up with water.

“We’re gonna help you find out who killed Master S,” Kai says. “Right?” He looks to Kyungsoo, who looks a little surprised.

Suho’s staring at them, looking a little shocked too. “You are?”

Of course he is. Kai hasn’t been this excited since that murder case with the Damascus steel and the dog prints. Kai’s always itching to solve problems. That’s why he gets such a rush when he rescues civilians from mortal peril. And this is a _big_ problem. And though Suho might come across as foolish, Kai agrees with him that the missing spectacles are a point of contention. 

“Yeah,” Kai says as he sits at the kitchen counter, stealing Suho’s glass and draining it. When he’s finished he says, “I have nothing else to do. Kyungsoo?”

Kyungsoo—who still manages to look hot, even if his hair’s been cropped short and even if he’s wearing a frumpy, ill-fitting suit—hesitates for a few seconds before deciding. “I’ll stay too.”

Kai smiles at him, grabbing his shoulder and squeezing it. “Thank you.”

“Really?” Suho, who doesn’t even look mad that Kai stole his drink, says. “G-Great! I have ideas where we could start and—”

“Do we have coffee?” asks Yixing as he walks inside. “Jongdae needs a pick-me-up.”

“Yeah, there’s a coffee machine right there,” Suho answers automatically, but his expression is incredulous. He watches Yixing move across the kitchen. “Yixing, are you staying too?”

“Yes,” he says absent-mindedly, beginning to figure out the machine. “Is that OK? I’m pretty concerned about Jongdae, so I would like to keep him here for a few days. Just to check on him.”

“Of course,” Suho says enthusiastically, like a goddamn puppy.

“Suho. What were your ideas?” Kai asks. Gently. Something’s up with Suho, clearly.

“Oh, right,” he says. “Well, now that Master S has … _passed_ , I’ve been … looking around the house a bit more.”

Kai smirks. “You’ve been sneaking around his stuff. Who would’ve thought?”

“We all would. Don’t worry,” Kyungsoo says, patting Suho on the hand. “He had so many secrets.”

Suho flushes, grabbing his hand. “No, no, it’s not like that. I’ve just been investigating his death.” 

“Right,” Kai and Kyungsoo both say, and again, they exchange a grin.

Kai’s chest flutters. It’s just like old times again, friends turned into something more. They’re falling headfirst into the same, well-worn patterns. Kai wants to fall faster.

“Anyway. I’ve been looking around the house more, and I’ve found some strange things,” Suho says darkly. “Look, how about I show you—”

“Yixing?” comes Xiumin’s voice as he enters the kitchen. Out of the twelve of them, Kai thinks Xiumin seems the most … _normal_ , dressed in a simple white button-up and black slacks, like he’s a waiter.

(Kai actually has no idea what Xiumin’s life is like. Maybe he _is_ a waiter.)

“In here,” calls Yixing serenely, who has gotten the coffee machine to start working. Its whirring fills the awkward silence as Xiumin and Suho make eye contact.

“Xiumin—”

Xiumin turns to leave instantly.

 _That’s odd_. Kai always thought the two were best friends.

Suho jumps up from his seat on the counter and goes to follow.

“What happened there?” murmurs Kyungsoo.

“No clue,” Kai murmurs back, inching closer to Kyungsoo. “You excited to solve some mysteries?”

There is no hesitation this time. Kyungsoo reciprocates, shuffling closer. “Yep.”

The sound of a slammed door echoes throughout the mansion, even the crackling sound of ice forming. Suho lumbers back in soon after, looking dejected.

“Don’t. Ask,” says Suho. He snatches Yixing’s finished coffee from him and drains it all. When he’s done, he gestures for Kai and Kyungsoo to follow. “Come on. I’ll show you what our dear Master S had to hide.”

* * *

Chanyeol doesn’t know how he ends up in a car with two EXO Academy members on the way home, but he does. (Maybe Chanyeol’s just too nice for his own good. Maybe he shouldn’t have offered.)

Actually, if Chanyeol’s honest with himself, he’s been thinking about the things Baekhyun told him yesterday. The words _manipulative_ , _egotistical_ and _cruel_ haven’t stopped coursing through his mind, and he doesn’t like it. So he offers Baekhyun and Sehun a ride home. How’s that for egotistical?

“Thanks for doing this,” Baekhyun says hurriedly, for the second time since Chanyeol started driving.

He tips the rear-view mirror down so he can see Baekhyun’s frazzled, rain-drenched self. Still cute. Chanyeol doesn’t know what it is about that damn house of theirs, but it brings back memories about their teenage years.

“No problem,” he says, smirking.

“Um, it’s just the buses are just really infrequent and—”

“Don’t thank him,” Sehun says, all the while scrolling through his phone. “He stars in one good movie and he thinks he’s, like, a philanthropist Brad Pitt or something.”

Baekhyun is one thing. Of course, their fight yesterday was dramatic and altered Chanyeol’s perception of their relationship forever. But at one point in their teenage years, Chanyeol considered them close to best friends. Baekhyun’s being sort of polite today—aside from yelling at him when he burnt the curtain. Could one fight, one day, really ruin such a long friendship? 

Sehun is an entirely different entity, of course. He won’t shut up about anything, about how cheap the car Chanyeol rides is (a fucking _Porsche_ ), about how slow the car is going, about how poorly everyone else dresses, about how hungry he is. Chanyeol and Sehun were close friends too once, but he has no desire to rekindle that relationship.

And Chanyeol’s still pissed at Sehun, who, he’s pretty sure, wanted Suho to defeat Chanyeol in their battle this morning. (As if Suho would ever. Chanyeol’s the most powerful in the family.)

“Shut up, loser,” snarls Chanyeol, steering left a bit too sharply. “Just because I’m employed.”

“What are you gonna do to me?” Sehun yawns. “Fight me at a funeral? Also, can you change the radio station?”

“That _was_ pretty immature of you, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says, concurring with Sehun. Something in his voice reminds Chanyeol that he’s changed much since they last met. “Junmyeon too.”

“ _Immature_? Sehun was the one egging us on!”

 _Manipulative_.

Baekhyun shakes his head. “He wasn’t egging anyone on. You did that yourself.”

“Eyes on the road, DiCaprio,” snarks Sehun.

Chanyeol ignores him. “Well, it already happened, so I can’t do anything about it.”

He doesn’t even need to look up at the mirror to know Baekhyun’s rolling his eyes. “Really? You can’t do _anything_?”

“Not a single thing,” he says through gritted teeth.

“And you’re questioning why I call you immature—?”

“This conversation is weird,” Sehun interrupts, “and I’m over it. Can you, like, change the radio station?”

Chanyeol fumes, flicking the radio station button.

“No, I want to keep going,” Baekhyun says. “Sorry, Sehun, but this conversation has been long overdue, and Chanyeol wouldn’t have it with me yesterday. Did you read the letter I wrote?”

This piques Sehun’s interest. “You saw each other yesterday?”

“What? What letter?” Chanyeol asks, ignoring him once more.

“The letter I gave you yesterday,” he says impatiently. “The one Jia told me to write. Do you remember that name?”

“Yeah, now I remember that name,” Chanyeol growls. “And that letter. I burnt it.”

“You _what_?”

Chanyeol’s eyes are now completely trained on the road ahead, not daring to look up at the mirror. “Burnt it. To a crisp. I didn’t wanna read your stupid letter.”

Baekhyun laughs, but it’s harsh, not sweet. “Of course you did.”

 _Cruel_.

A pause.

“Pull over at the next gas station. I’ll just catch a taxi.”

“Fine.”

Silence. Then:

“Hmm, I don’t really like this radio station either. Could you change it again?”

* * *

Luhan’s barely inside his small studio apartment when Tao says, “Finally, you’re here.”

Luhan shrieks and drops his keys. Tao, sitting on Luhan’s bed, clicks his fingers instantaneously and the keys suddenly decelerate, falling in slow motion. 

“Just showing off,” Tao says and grins, reminding Luhan of chaste, teenaged days in their rooms, playing card games, or practical jokes on Yifan.

“Taozi, you scared me,” Luhan says quietly, grabbing his keys suspended mid-air.

“Taozi,” Tao repeats, standing up as Luhan sits next to him. As if tasting the word in his mouth.

“Oh, sorry. I meant _Tao_.”

“Whatever,” Tao says swiftly. His smile has disappeared. Serious. Unrecognisable. “We don’t have enough time. I need to explain everything to you. Do you have coffee? Coffee first.”

“Is cappuccino okay?” Luhan smiles tinnily to himself as he goes to his kitchen counter. “You used to hate coffee.”

“Mm. It’s the only thing that can keep me from getting tired.”

Luhan watches Tao pace around his small apartment, the small fourteen-year-old-sized boy knocking into Luhan’s small wastebasket, past Luhan’s bed, to the bathroom door, and then back. There’s not much space to pace around, but Tao makes it look serious, mumbling to himself. It’s almost … cute.

“How did you get in?” Luhan asks. Does he even want to know?

“Your window doesn’t have locks,” Tao says casually.

(Luhan frowns but says nothing.)

“Your coffee’s done,” he says, handing it to his little brother.

Finally, they both sit down on the edge of Luhan’s bed. Silence except for sighing and sipping.

“I read your book,” says Tao suddenly. “I found a copy of it. In the future.”

Luhan blinks.

“It was ballsy of you,” Tao says, his smile creeping back onto his young face. “I would never have expected _you_ to write something like it. Very scandalous. All the family secrets.”

“Thank you.”

“The part about me was nice. Childhood best friend.”

Luhan chuckles quietly at the floor, but his laughter dies out quickly. “Tao … why are you here? What was the future like?”

“One question at a time,” snaps Tao.

“Fine,” he says quietly. “Why are you here?”

“You’re the only one I can trust, I’ve decided.”

“Why me?”

“Well, you’re ordinary.”

A part of Luhan wishes Tao wouldn’t say it so … _matter-of-factly_. It still stings. Just a little.

“And you’ll listen,” he adds. Maybe to spare Luhan’s feelings.

“What are you going to tell me?” asks Luhan, very slowly.

“That day, nine years ago,” Tao says briskly, “we were on a mission, and I attempted to use my powers. I forgot what it was that we were fighting against. But all I remember is that I got separated from everyone else, and then suddenly I got a surge of energy that day. Normally, as you know, using my power tired me out a lot. I couldn’t even freeze a bug flying in the air, let alone a whole person. A whole building. But that day, something in me had awoken.”

“Why?” Luhan asks. “What was it?”

“I don’t know,” Tao says, sounding as if it’s the worst thing in the world to _not know_. “But I remember someone else was there that day. Watching me.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know,” Tao hisses. “Maybe he worked for SM; I never found out. _Anyway_ , that’s not the point. The point is, I was surging with so much power. Too much. It exploded out of me. I flew through time, years and years into the future.”

“Master S always warned you against time travel, I think I remember.” Luhan wracks his brain, trying to brain. “I … can’t remember specifically why.”

“Time travel can make you crazy,” says Tao, not meeting Luhan’s eyes. “It messes with your brain. Humans aren’t built physically nor mentally nor _emotionally_ for time travel.”

“Oh,” says Luhan.

“One more question. I’m getting sleepy,” Zitao complains. “May I sleep here?”

“Of course,” Luhan says hurriedly, running to prepare the couch. When he comes back, Zitao looks at him expectantly.

“Well? One more question before I take a power nap.”

“Well, how did you come back?”

“In the end, I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time. I admit, I got the calculations incorrect, which is why I look so young when my mental state is much older. Something about the rounding of the digits of pi.”

“I don’t know what any of that means,” Luhan confesses.

Tao bounds towards the couch and curls himself in the blankets.

“I know. Wake me up in one hour or I knife you.”

* * *

Suho leads Kai and Kyungsoo to Master S’s room, which, of course, was forbidden to them when they lived in the EXO Academy. They enter the grand space (the door is broken), the garishly patterned rug at their feet. Master S’s bed, a large thing propped at the far end of the room, sits amongst other Victorian-era decorations, like a fancy umbrella stand and equally-fancy umbrella stand, beside an oil portrait of Master S.

“Boring,” says Kai. “Can’t believe _this_ is it. Why’d he try so hard to keep us out?”

Kyungsoo snorts but Suho shakes his head. “It’s not _just_ this. Look here.”

He walks over to the end of the spacious place and pulls hard on the umbrella—no, _lever_. Kai’s jaw drops. A mechanic sound chugs throughout the room and a tall, rectangular section of the wall falls away.

“See?” Suho says loftily.

“A hidden door,” Kai marvels and steps forward; but he can only see darkness ahead.

“Jesus…” Kyungsoo says, gingerly approaching.

“Follow me.” Suho takes the lead.

Kai whips out three torches from his bag—Kyungsoo gives him an amused look—and together they make their way inside.

“So…” Kai says as they walk straight, claustrophobic metal walls on either side of them. “Did you say you were living with your family again?”

Kyungsoo makes a noise that echoes throughout the hallway. “You’re still thinking about that?”

Admittedly, he is. 

“Well, yeah, I am,” Kyungsoo says. “What about it?”

“We’re here,” Suho says before Kai can answer. Suho shines his flashlight at a metal door at the end of the hallway, and then, tugging on the handle, wrenches it open.

“OK,” Kai says as Suho opens it. “This is fucking creepy.”

It’s a large room. Everything is metal grey, the spinning chair, the stack of videotapes, the desk of papers, the computer, and a score of monitor screens showing CCTV footage of different places in the mansion. The backyard. The front yard. The living room. The kitchen. Each of their individual rooms.

“He was such an asshole,” Kai says in disgust. He feels unpleasant all over his entire body. “I don’t think any of us knew he had _footage_ of us.”

“Agreed,” Kyungsoo says, cringing. “So you found this room this morning?”

“Last night,” says Suho. “I was scouring hard for anything.”

“Ugh. What’s the point of all this?”

“So he can keep track of our progress,” Kai speculates darkly. “He was always obsessed with all of our progress.”

“Why would he bother having a camera in Luhan’s room?” asks Kyungsoo.

“Guys,” Suho says shortly. “We have a goal here. Let’s not get distracted.”

“What’s the goal, captain?” asks Kai, taking a seat in the spinning chair. He jokingly beckons Kyungsoo to sit in his lap, but he only gets a middle finger in response.

“The _goal_ ,” Suho says, observing this with a frown, “is to find the footage from the day before yesterday. For Master S.’s room. To see how he died.”

“Oh, that’s it?” Kyungsoo says, shoving Kai off the chair so he can sit at the computer. “Easy. I can find it for you.”

Suho’s frown deepens. Kai can tell he’s caught between embarrassment and gratitude.

“Such an old man. Can’t even work a computer,” Kai says teasingly, poking Suho in his shoulder, who clutches the spot like Kai fired a bullet. (Kai sighs inwardly. Hopeless.)

While Suho inspects the pile of videotapes, Kai decides he can’t sit still and goes to pester Kyungsoo. “How is it?”

“Fine,” Kyungsoo says. “I just have to find the camera on the computer that connects to the one in Master S’s room. Quick, what number is it?”

Kai, even though he’s quite tall, has to crane his neck to check. “Screen 17.”

“Cool, I found it. Thanks.”

“I actually meant, how is living at home. With your family.”

“Oh.” Something in Kyungsoo’s voice changes. “It’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

“It’s _good_.” Kyungsoo sighs as he types on the keyboard. “I get fed real meals every day, not training diets. I don’t have to compete for the bathroom each morning with eleven other boys. I have a proper Dad. It’s good.”

It certainly _sounds_ good to Kai. Kai can’t imagine what it’s like to have a proper family and home. All he has is the EXO Academy, which is clearly anything but a family. So, actually, all Kai has is Kai.

“Sounds boring,” Kai says.

“It kinda is,” Kyungsoo replies. Kai can see his smile reflected in the computer screen.

“Do you miss it here, though? You _have_ to.”

Kyungsoo’s smile betrays him. “Yep. I do. The EXO Academy life was exciting.”

“But?”

“Who said there was a _but_?”

“I could tell.”

Kyungsoo sighs again. “ _But_ I have to think about my parents now.”

Kai snaps before he can control himself. “What have they ever done for you? They aren’t your family.”

“Not this again,” Kyungsoo says wearily, and Kai grips his fists.

“Are you done yet?” Suho demands.

At first, Kai thinks Suho’s talking about their little argument, and is about to give Suho a kick in the face, but Kai realises their Number One’s just focused on the task at hand. Like usual. Kai un-grips his fists.

“Yep, I’m just trying to find … where the day before yesterday’s … records … are … OK, yep. Found them, right here.” Kyungsoo directs the cursor to click on a 24-hour long video file.

“About what time did Master S die?”

“Coroner says late at night,” says Suho, who has moved beside Kai to scrutinise at the computer screen.

“OK.” Kyungsoo starts playing the video at around nine o’clock and then changes the video settings till it’s playing at a rapid speed.

Master S is already cradled in bed. On his bedside table, there are his spectacles and a drink. They watch the blurry, dark footage go by at a lightning’s pace, with no movements except Master S shifting in bed. Until…

“There!” says Kai, pointing at a sudden movement. “Pause the video. Slow it down.”

The timestamp says the footage is at about midnight. It plays at a normal speed. Kai feels a chill run down his back as the movement comes closer to Master S’s bed.

“That’s definitely a person,” Kyungsoo says.

“What’s he doing?” Suho hisses.

The person moves next to Master S’s bed, but rather than attacking him, the person takes something out and tips it into the glass. The person leaves and only seconds later, Master S rouses from his sleep.

“We just watched a murder,” Kai says, whistling.

Kyungsoo’s expression is agape. “How did the police not catch that?”

“Junmyeon, you were right. Heart failure, my ass. Junmyeon?”

Their leader looks shell-shocked. His face is pale. “He died … while I was still in the house,” Suho says, his head falling into his hands. “Under _my_ care.”

Kai and Kyungsoo exchange a glance.

“Um, it’s not your fault, Junmyeon. Not at all,” Kyungsoo says, reaching out to pat his shoulder.

Suho rejects it. “Whatever. _Whatever_. Find out who that person is _now_. Can you blow up that footage? Make it brighter?”

“On it.”

Kai watches with trepidation as Kyungsoo works the computer.

“OK. Right … here. Oh, fuck.”

The three of them stare at the footage, brightened and blown up. The person, at Master S’s killer. A familiar face.

“Huh,” Kai says, breaking the long silence. He runs a hand through his hair, shocked. “Guess you were right about two things, Junmyeon. One of us _did_ kill him.”

* * *

The gas station Chanyeol drops Baekhyun off at is a dingy one, a dilapidated place with few cars and fewer gas pumps. He almost feels bad— _almost_ —but, as with most things in Chanyeol’s life, anger takes over. He slams the brakes as soon as they arrive and all but demands Baekhyun leave.

“That was mean,” Sehun says, eyes still on his phone.

“ _He’s_ mean,” Chanyeol growls, watching Baekhyun, phone at his ear, walk to the front of the gas station and sit down on the sidewalk.

“Baekhyun, mean? Really? Out of the twelve of us? And coming from you?”

“I don’t care about the _twelve of us_. I don’t care about any of you washed out losers.”

“Is that why you haven’t started driving again ‘cause you keep staring at Byun?” Sehun says, smirking.

Chanyeol slaps the rear-view mirror down so he doesn’t have to see Sehun’s stupid, smug face and starts the car up.

“I was _joking_ , Clooney,” Sehun says, unlocking the car door. “I need to piss. Don’t leave without me.”

“Wait,” Chanyeol says. “Am I really that mean?” 

Chanyeol turns around in the driver’s seat. Sehun’s eyebrow is raised.

“Are you seriously asking? Well, yeah. Chanyeol, you’re, like, a cunt.”

Somehow, it’s easier to believe from blasé Sehun than from bright-eyed Baekhyun who looked up to Chanyeol all their teenagehood. Chanyeol grumbles and smacks the steering wheel. “Damn it.”

“Why do you ask?” Sehun asks, sounding a little curious.

“Jia—that’s his therapist—”

“—you got a therapist—?”

“—no, I just said it was _Baekhyun’s_. Idiot. Anyway, Jia called me manipulative. And egotistical. And cruel.”

Sehun wolf-whistles.

“Opinions?”

“Well, I like this Jia person,” Sehun yawns. “She sounds like the mother I never had.”

Chanyeol swivels around once more.

“Am I _really_ that bad?” he begs.

Sehun stares at him for a second, then giggles. “Yeah, but everybody in our fucked up little family has their issues. You’re not alone. In that aspect.”

“Thanks for adding that last bit,” Chanyeol barks, attempting to smack the younger man, but missing. Chanyeol then sits back once more, sighing. “Fuck…”

“Hey, it’s OK,” he says, his voice laced with an attempt at earnestness. “At least you’re self-aware now. That’s better than, like, half of us.”

“You’re unhelpful,” snaps Chanyeol. “Damn it. I shouldn’t have burnt the stupid letter.”

He digs out the crumpled, black ashes from his pocket and stares at them.

“You burnt the letter, but then you kept it,” Sehun deadpans. “Yeah, maybe you _should_ get a therapist.”

“I’ll kill you,” Chanyeol says, and then attempts to wrestle Sehun, despite the barriers that come with wrestling inside a Porsche. They’re both long-limbed but Chanyeol’s the stronger of the two and manages to defeat his younger companion.

“Look over there!” gasps Sehun, right arm pinned down by Chanyeol but left pointing out the car window.

“I’m not falling for that, I’m not _twelve_.” Chanyeol pins down Sehun’s left arm and then grins in victory.

“No, Chanyeol, _I’m serious_.”

Alarmed at this incredibly rare statement from Sehun, Chanyeol lets go of his victim and whips around to stare out the windshield. Baekhyun is no longer sitting down on the sidewalk. He’s cowering against a gas pump, at the mercy of two gunmen masked similarly to the invaders that had broken into their house just a few hours ago.

“Fuck, fuck,” Chanyeol says, slamming open his car door and shooting a jet of flame instantly.

It hits one of the men, who is sent tumbling away, but the other turns on Chanyeol, his gun at the ready.

“Incoming!” shrieks Baekhyun.

Chanyeol, who knows this is the battle code they used to use back in EXO Academy mission days—shields his eyes—and knows Sehun does the same. An incandescent light explodes, so bright that Chanyeol’s eyes hurt even though his eyelids are shut. When it dies down, the two gunmen are on the floor, clutching at their eyes.

“Remember, they’re strong,” Baekhyun says, panting and hobbling towards Chanyeol. “They won’t stay down for long!”

“Get in the car,” Sehun says, and he jerks both his arms outward violently. A gale whooshes by and sends, not only the two gunmen but their weapons, a gas pump, and a bush flying away.

Chanyeol, having grabbed Baekhyun, has already deposited the smaller man in the back and taken the driver’s seat. Sehun soon follows, tumbling in and slamming the door shut.

“Where are we going?” demands Chanyeol.

The EXO Academy jingle, echoing from all three of their phones, gives them their answer.

“Family reunion,” says Sehun, far too delighted for someone just out of battle, “ _again_.”

* * *

Luhan lets him sleep for longer than an hour.

In fact, Luhan can’t know how long Tao has been sleeping, because at some point, drowsiness, too, takes over Luhan’s body. That is, until he’s awoken by screaming.

Luhan tumbles out of bed, prepared to defend himself from an assailant or an attacker. But it’s Tao who’s screaming bloody murder, convulsing in the small couch Luhan tucked him into. Luhan can’t run over fast enough.

“Taozi! Oh, my God. Wake up, _wake up_.”

Luhan rocks him awake until the fourteen-year-old-looking boy is gasping for his life, his eyes wide open.

“Tao!” Luhan breathes out shakily. “Are you all _right_?”

“Just — a nightmare—” gasps Tao.

“ _Breathe_ ,” Luhan says slowly.

Together, they simply take in breaths, until the breaths become controlled. Until Luhan finally realises he’s been holding onto his little brother for too long.

(The new Tao probably hates physical contact.)

“Are you OK?” whispers Luhan.

“Yes,” Tao says shortly. (His coldness, while saddening, actually comforts Luhan because it means he’s getting back to normal. Whatever _normal_ is.) “I’m fine.”

“Good,” Luhan says. “What was that all about?”

“Like I said,” Tao says, untangling himself from his blanket, and sitting up straight, “a nightmare.”

“Some nightmare.”

“Hmm. It was about…” Tao sighs.

“About?”

“Look, I didn’t answer one of your questions before. On purpose. But, like I said, I trust you.” Tao looks him dead in the eye. “When I went to the future, do you know what I saw?”

“No,” Luhan says. “What did you see?”

“Nothing. As in, everything that once was, was gone. Destroyed. Ruined. Years and years of human civilisation reduced to burning rubble.”

Luhan’s skin is crawling.

“I know the day it happened.”

Never mind. Tao doesn’t look anything like a fourteen-year-old boy. There’s something haggard and old about his shoulders, something world-weary about his voice.

“Luhan, look at me. The apocalypse is twelve days from now: December 12th.”

Luhan can see centuries in those sunken eyes of Tao’s. Millennia. Timelines. Time itself resides in his eyes. 

“The end of the world is coming,” he says simply, “and I don’t know how to stop it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you if you read this far! any form of love (hits, kudos, bookmarks, comments) is greatly appreciated ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡


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